


Watching

by Monna99



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:54:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21727096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monna99/pseuds/Monna99
Summary: The artillery barrage stopped as suddenly as it had begun. The quiet stretched, enfolding the night once again. He was getting ready to straighten when he heard it— a desperate, nearly inaudible groan.
Relationships: Carwood Lipton/Ronald Speirs
Comments: 6
Kudos: 59





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Rating is for next chapter.

After thirty-six straight days on the line, he was stretched far too thin. Everyone was. They had no showers, no hot food and precious little rest. Despite that, sitting still was more than he could bear just then and he found himself moving, feet tracing the now-familiar patrol route. He might as well make sure all the men were dug in, though it was unlikely any of them would choose now to take a stroll, not when being caught in the open could mean catching fire from the overzealous Germans manning the 88s across the wide trench where they were holed. Right on cue, he heard the sharp bursts of machine-gun fire cutting through the darkness. It was far enough to his right — several hundred yards from the sound of it — that he wasn’t overly concerned, but he tensed and ducked nevertheless. Better to be cautious than sorry. There would be no point being sorry later. 

The artillery barrage stopped as suddenly as it had begun. The quiet stretched, enfolding the night once again. He was getting ready to straighten when he heard it — a nearly inaudible groan. It set his heart to pounding and he was up before any conscious thought had formed. He moved swiftly, silently toward the location of that low keen. It had sounded … desperate. Visions of mangled, bloodied bodies assaulted him so it took far too long for his eyes to understand what he was seeing. He stood at the rear of the main line, frozen at the sight of two bodies humping desperately, one man behind another. Thankfully, from Lip’s angle, there wasn’t much to see, just the naked pale thighs of the man in front whose pants and underwear were pushed down to his knees while the man behind him had merely undone his buttons and unzipped his fly. He could hear more sounds now, the smack of flesh on flesh and throaty groans that made him flush as he stood there.

“How long do you plan on watching?” 

He jerked around, rifle coming up automatically as his heart leaped in his chest, but in the next breath, he lowered it again, recognizing the shadowy figure. “Sir,” he said, voice low, taking a deep breath to still the pounding of his heart. 

Speirs glanced behind Lipton at the two men that Lip had momentarily forgotten. The sounds increased, as did the slap of flesh. Lipton flushed darkly as both he and Speirs stood there, listening, unmoving.

He swallowed, throat too dry. “I should … I should stop them.”

“God, yes! Please!” 

Lip flinched at the too-loud words that reached them. 

Speirs said nothing, observing him in the darkness. 

“It’s a crime,” Lip whispered, not sure if the words were for Speirs’s sake or his own. “It’s illegal.”

Suddenly, the sounds died down. Quiet stretched. A few seconds later there was a frantic shuffling of clothes. Lip turned around hesitantly and watched the men set themselves to rights. Just as they were about to part, the bulkier of the two reached out to the thinner man and ran tender fingers along his jaw, leaning in quickly to place a chaste kiss on parted lips. 

Lip’s hand tightened on the rifle. Speirs had seen. Speirs knew. The men would be punished, there was nothing he could do to stop it. And he shouldn’t want to stop it, he reminded himself. It was his job to report what he’d seen. In his mind’s eye, he saw how it would play out. The same way it had played out in cases before: the men would be accused, imprisoned and a short trial would invariably determine their guilt. They would face disgrace and dishonor and the barrel of a gun would ultimately press to a soft temple, then a flash. Two lives, two families destroyed. His heart squeezed at the thought of seeing those bright eyes closed forever, at the thought of good men being made to suffer. Because he knew those men, the cover of night wasn’t enough to conceal their identities, not when all the men of Easy knew each other as intimately as lovers — more intimately even. 

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t hurt those men. No matter what the laws of man said. As for divine law, well, God would judge his actions when his time came. 

The men turned to go and he saw Speirs step forward.

Lip grabbed his arm, unthinking, and he froze, stomach knotting as Speirs tensed. Still, he didn’t release him. If he let Speirs go, he would find out their identities, would know who those men were, he would report them. 

Speirs’s head turned toward him, expression betraying some surprise. “First Sergeant,” his tone was warning and Lip knew his own end might be near. He’d heard the stories about Speirs shooting his own men for disobedience. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” he whispered, voice low to keep from alarming the men. His hand trembled, ever-so-slightly as he thought of his mother, but he didn’t let go. “I’m not going to let you go after them.”

Speirs stilled. His hand reached up, closing over Lipton’s, though to Lip’s surprise he didn’t fling it off and shoot him then and there. The warmth of those fingers seeped into his own. “It’s all right, Lipton.”

Lip held his gaze, not daring to breathe. 

“It’s all right,” Speirs repeated. “I won’t hurt your boys.”


	2. Chapter 2

They were pulled off the line the next day. The sudden, unexpected announcement left them scrambling to organize men, supplies, and transport vehicles. It fell on Lip to assign the squads their respective duties and delegate each job while keeping track of who and what went where. Chaos reigned well into the late morning as men were given one set of orders that were changed ten minutes later and then changed back twenty minutes after that. Still, no one complained. They were finally getting a break and would be temporarily stationed on the outskirts of a tiny village a few miles south of the mainline. Spirits were high as they arrived and men set to digging latrines, assembling pup tents, and erecting a makeshift kitchen. They were long overdue for a decent meal. Lip walked the grounds of the camp, talking with the men, lending a hand where he could and observing the distribution of the fresh supply of coffee, smokes and ration bars.

After a late lunch, with the men assigned sleeping tents and KP taken care of, Lip found himself listless and ventured out to the edge of the surrounding forest. It was beautiful, but after Bastogne, he found he didn’t much care to spend time flanked by walls of trees. He walked to a nearby open field instead and sat with his back against a young birch. The ground was cold and there was a nip still in the air but it wasn’t nearly so bad as it had been. He leaned his head back, gaze to the blue sky, thinking, attempting to convince himself he hadn’t left camp because he was avoiding Speirs. The night before was inexplicable. He was still working at figuring out what had happened. Speirs had simply … walked away. It was true that the man was very much an enigma but even so, Lip couldn’t wrap his head around the captain ignoring what they’d seen. He didn’t want to question his good luck, didn’t want to think on it further but he couldn’t help feeling that it was only a matter of time before the other shoe dropped. 

“Hey, Lip!” Carwood snapped out of his preoccupation. Luz was jogging lazily toward him with a wide grin on his face. “We got showers!”

Lip blinked, wondering for a moment if he’d heard wrong. It had been more than two weeks since he’d washed his whole body — he’d been fantasizing about a shower, dreaming about it, missing it more than he’d been missing home. “That’s great, Luz.” He stood, gathering his papers, ignoring as Luz rolled his eyes at him. 

“ _Great_ he says, like we wouldn’t all happily shoot someone right now for a hot shower. Or even a cold one.”

Lip grinned at him. “Believe me, I’m hooting and hollering on the inside.” He glanced at the other man as they made their way back to camp, taking in his dirt-streaked face and dirty duds. “You didn’t need to wait on me.”

“Eh, someone’s gotta take care of you. Plus, they set up a separate shower tent for officers — a real spiffy one — I figure sticking with you might get me the fancy soap. Isn’t that what they mean by friends with benefits?”

Lipton laughed.

Predictably, the line for the showers was as long and winding as the tales Guarnere told. Grimy, battered men were stretched nearly as far as the eye could see. 

“Well, damn,” George muttered. “I was hoping to shower again sometime before Hitler surrendered.”

Lip squeezed Luz’s shoulder commiseratingly. “I’ll get us a spot, why don’t you grab us towels in the meantime?”

“Yeah, yeah, send me to do the grunt work.” He stared at the line speculatively, “Ya know, Lip, we could always use our rank to—”

“Don’t even think about it, George. These men have been waiting for this just as long as we have.” He squashed the disappointed groan at the back of his head, ignoring the droll look Luz shot him. It wouldn’t be right. In any case, Luz groaned loudly enough for the both of them as he walked away, muttering darkly under his breath and making a show of dragging himself to the towel-distribution area. Carwood bit his lip against a grin, watching him. 

He was chatting and laughing with the boys in line when Speirs approached. He didn’t need to see the man to know, it was evident in the way the men fell silent, their laughter dying in their throats as they desperately looked anywhere but at him. Before Carwood could turn, a hand grasped his arm firmly and pulled him away from the others.

“First Sergeant Lipton, come with me.” 

Lip contained his sigh. “Yes, sir,” he responded compliantly, Speirs wasn’t giving him much say in the matter, all-but dragging him along. His shoulders drooped when he realized he wasn’t getting that shower after all. Speirs glanced back but said nothing. It wasn’t until they passed the shower tents and he saw the privacy screens that Lip realized what Speirs intended. “Sir, I can’t—” he began, even as Speirs pushed past the screens.

“You can and you are,” Speirs countered, unconcerned. “Rank has its privileges and this is one of the more inoffensive things you can do with it.” 

Lip had to admit the officers’ shower tent was a sight better than that of the men’s. It was an enclosed double tent with a few hanging sheets serving as privacy screens and only a handful of men waiting in line. The last of the officers it seemed, except … wasn’t that—? He balked, nearly stumbling when Speirs shoved rudely into the line ahead of several men and pulled Carwood with him. “Sir, this tent is designated for commissioned officers only—”

“Give it up, Lip, you know Sparky doesn’t give a damn about pointless rules … or civility … or lines in general.”

Lip glanced at the speaker, breaking the battle of wills he was having with his superior officer. Looking around, he realized they’d cut in front of Toye, Guarnere, Webster, Liebgott, and Martin and were directly behind Winters and Nixon. All the questions he might have had about their presence flew right out of his brain as a terrible flush started at his chest and spread upward to his face until he was nearing fire-engine red from the neck up. 

Speirs crossed his arms. “Says the spoiled, rich, Yale boy.”

Nix grinned and opened his mouth to retort but stopped as he saw Carwood’s face. “Whoa.” He stepped a little closer, eyebrows raised in surprise. “You feeling all right there, Lip? I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen what sunstroke looks like, but that’s gotta be it. I wouldn’t have expected it in the middle of winter though.”

Dick turned, frowning worriedly in his direction and few of the others began to take notice and stare as well. The attention was the last thing Lip wanted. He opened his mouth to dismiss their concern but Speirs stepped close — much too close, they were already crammed together in the line — and placed a hand at the small of his back. “Some people do feel shame at using rank to benefit themselves, Nixon,” he said, drawing the attention away from Carwood. 

Nix snorted, unperturbed. “Well, everyone has their flaws. But that’s why they’ve got us, huh, Sparky? It’s a good thing we’re completely shameless.” He looped his arm through Dick’s, pressing their shoulders together. “ _Some people_ need to be reminded that it’s okay to take care of themselves first sometimes.”

Dick’s lips quirked in a grin but his eyes remained fixed on Lipton. “A good leader looks after his men.”

“Your men aren’t sharing a tent with you, I am!” Nix retorted, making the others laugh. 

Dick patted his friend’s hand, “I’ll make it up to you, Nix,” he promised. He moved over to Lip as the others threw out suggestions. Lew favored a night on the town — dinner, drinking and dancing. “Is he taking you or his dame?” Toye ribbed, laughing. 

“Keep it up, Toye,” Nix warned. “I’ll cancel our romantic dinner for two and take Guarnere instead. At least he won’t crush my toes.” 

“Dinner? What’s on the menu?” Bill demanded to know. “I ain’t no cheap hussy like Toye.”

“The finest steak with all the trimmings and as much beer as you can handle, sweetcheeks.”

“Shit,” Johnny interjected, “sign me the hell up, you just tell me what dress to wear.”

“‘Ey, get your own goddamn date!” Guarnere growled, pulling Martin into a headlock. Badgering and taunting followed along with laughter. 

“Lip,” Dick murmured, standing at his side, “are you feeling okay?”

Lipton nodded, grateful that the men were distracted. “Fine, sir,” he replied, “just got something caught in my throat.” More like caught in his brain, and the subject of the men’s teasing wasn’t helping. It also didn’t help that the two men were there, acting as though everything was normal, like they hadn’t done … that. Much as he wanted to erase them, yesterday’s images continued to play on a loop in his mind. The sight, the sounds, the … enthusiasm. He looked away as he felt the heat building again, threatening to overwhelm him. 

To his everlasting relief, Luz chose that moment to appear. “Here you are! What’s the deal with abandoning me?” he groused, tossing a towel over Carwood’s head. “Some pal you are, but I forgive you since you got us into the officers’ tent,” he added, trying to squeeze in behind Lip.

“No way, Luz,” Liebgott griped, shoving his arm forward to block him, “you’re behind us. You don’t outrank me.”

“If you get a plus one, so does Lip. I’m his plus one,” Luz retorted, holding his ground. 

It was Liebgott’s turn to flush. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he bit out. Next to him, David looked at his feet, ducking closer to Liebgott who crossed his arms, glowering.

Luz had a much greater sense of self-preservation than most people gave him credit for — he opened his mouth, took one look at Lieb’s murderous face, and closed it again with a snap. 

“Ease up, Liebgott,” Toye grumbled just behind him. He reached around and snagged Luz’s jacket, drawing him forward. “Come here, Luz. You’re my plus one.”

“Uhh,” was Luz's stellar contribution. 

Of course, Guarnere didn’t let it go. He continued to snipe at Liebgott and their bickering escalated until they were grappling with one another while Luz egged them on, trying to get Web to put a chocolate bar down on Liebgott. Lip shook his head, exasperated and turned back to see the tent emptying. They were up next and they were the last group which had its own benefits — they’d be able to take longer in the shower. Dick and Nix stepped forward and Lip made to follow just as Guarnere and Lieb knocked into Speirs who reached out to steady himself. His hand landed on Lip, curling over the right side of Carwood’s hip as his chest pressed firmly to Lip’s back, hips flush against his ass. Lip couldn’t hold back a gasp at the full-body contact, feeling his captain’s warm breath against the suddenly sensitive nape of his neck. “Sorry,” Speirs muttered, lips brushing Carwood’s ear. He didn’t sound very sorry. 

The boys’ bickering faded to white noise as Lip’s world narrowed to the pressure of Speirs’s body against his own. His muscles flexed as he shifted, intending to pull away — and his breath caught in his throat as Speirs’s fingers tightened, digging in harder and pulling him back into the curve of his body. 

There was a new heat suffusing him, burning him as he stood there, caught in the hold of his captain, wondering if he was losing his mind while the others went on arguing as though Lip’s world wasn’t shifting on its axis. He glanced up and locked eyes with Nixon who was staring at him, an arch little grin curling his lips. When Lip met his gaze, Nix winked playfully.

It spurred him to bolt forward, extracting himself from Speirs’s grip.

Stupidly, that was the moment Lip realized exactly what a terrible mistake showering would be. Specifically, showering with that particular group of men. His mouth went dry as they began to undress — standing next to each other, elbows knocking, arms and legs brushing without a care in the world. Knowing what he did, Lip couldn’t understand how the two men could act so … casual. He stood there, clutching his towel at his waist and keeping his eyes averted, desperate to avoid looking at anyone too closely. Then an unashamedly nude Speirs pulled the towel from his hands and ordered him to begin undressing and Lipton realized he had a whole new set of problems. 

He began to shake as the blood drained from his face, heart hammering in alarm because … God, because … 

He couldn’t look at Speirs, couldn’t think of any way of explaining away— 

“Lipton?” Speirs queried, stepping closer to shield him from the eyes of the other men. “What is it?”

“Sir,” he managed, hoarsely. He’d meant to say it steadily, to make up some excuse and take his leave, say he’d come back to shower later. No big deal. But his voice shook and he couldn’t meet the other man’s eyes.

Speirs frowned and glanced down casually. 

In that moment, Lip wished for a potato masher to land on him. The humiliation left him burning and his hands twitched toward his front but he managed to keep them clenched at his sides.

“Oh,” the word was a soft, surprised exhale. He wondered if anyone in the tent was questioning why he and Speirs were taking so long. “Lipton—”

“I’m sorry, sir,” he gasped out, the words desperate and too loud. He supposed he could have tried to laugh it off or explain it — he was a young man in his prime, he hadn’t had the opportunity to indulge in self-relief for far too long, the adrenaline of life and death balanced on a razor’s edge would wind anyone up, any of those, all of those would have worked as excuses, they were true enough — but words escaped him.

“No, you have nothing for which to apologize, Lipton,” Speirs said softly, shifting closer to Lip, shielding him further in case anyone inside got curious. “Get undressed, it’ll be all right” he said quietly. He squeezed Lip’s arm when Lip would have objected and looked inside the tent. “Liebgott, Webb, move it. I’m taking that spot.” Lip nearly groaned. Speirs really had absolutely no compunctions about using his authority any way he wanted.

“The hell?” came from inside followed by the sound of Liebgott cursing as Webster presumably dragged him away no questions asked. 

Speirs turned back to Carwood. He stood directly in front of him, naked as a jaybird and completely unruffled. That made one of them, Lip’s heart was close to beating out of his chest. “There,” Speirs said easily. “You won’t need to walk by anyone and I’ll block you from the other side. No will see. Just me.” 

Lipton lifted his gaze, swallowing hard and gave a tiny nod. He raised shaking hands to undo the buttons of his army-issue shirt, caged in by Speirs who didn’t move back so much as an inch, eyes too intense as they followed the movement of Carwood’s fingers. 

“Good. Next,” he murmured as Lip dropped the shirt into the vat marked for wash. Lipton took a breath as he pulled his undershirt over his head, chest now bare and heaving lightly as he panted like he’d run to the tent in full gear. There was no reason, no sense to how he was reacting. He couldn’t understand it. He’d dressed and undressed and showered with the men countless times, so much so that he did it without thinking, without a stitch of shame, but a peculiar tremor beset his limbs as he stood there and dropped his hands to his belt, undoing first the buckle then the top button of his pants, followed by the buttons of his fly, all as Speirs waited and watched with those hawk eyes. He hooked his fingers into his pants and underwear to push them down but found himself hesitating, hands falling still.

“Do it, Lipton,” Speirs coaxed, fingers flexing as though he wanted to take care of it himself. “Let me see.”

Carwood’s breath stopped and he shook his head. No, absolutely not, that’s not what was happening here. He wasn’t … undressing for Speirs. His hands turned clammy and shook as he slowly pressed down, down, down, pants and boxers sliding past his hips, thighs, knees until they hit the ground and he kicked them off along with his boots and socks, standing as naked as Speirs and he couldn’t not look anymore. 

Speirs was erect. He looked painfully aroused, cock flushed and standing at attention against his hard belly. Lipton closed his eyes, torn between running away or—

There was no _or_ , there couldn’t be an _or_. This wasn’t him, he didn’t do these sorts of things. He heard Speirs take a ragged breath, felt fingers brush over his wrist in the midst of his panic. “You’re beautiful, Carwood.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this has gotten a tiny bit more involved than I intended, but by jove I'm gonna make it PORN because that's what I promised.

**Author's Note:**

> K, this is leading to nothing but porn with a dash of sweetness. Just sos you know :D


End file.
